


Curiosity

by RalitoEnSalaa



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: But they are very applicable, F/M, Femdom, He got no shame, M/M, Mahariel basically slept with half of Thedas, More tags to be added, Nor did the author, Rough Sex, Size Kink, Slut! Mahariel, Slut! Warden
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:20:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RalitoEnSalaa/pseuds/RalitoEnSalaa
Summary: Mahariel is curious about Qunari, particularly on how they fuck.
Relationships: Everyone/Warden, Sten/Male Mahariel, Sten/Zevran Arainai/Warden, Zevran Arainai/Male Mahariel, Zevran Arainai/Male Warden
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> It was written around a year ago. I needed (and still do) a slut warden so bad, and also a sten/zevran/warden threesome.  
> And a year later, here I am, digging out this piece and remorsefully find it unfinished. I plan to finish this of course, but I'm also curious (lol) about if anyone actually wants to read this. So yes, this is the first part.  
> Please enjoy:D  
> (and it would be best if you wish to tell me what do you think of it*whisper

Somewhere deep in Mahariel’s mind, a rush of desires has never been sated. 

It lurks in the edge of sanity, creeps down the curve of his back and tangles at the end of fingertips. Back in days of his clan, never did he openly diplay such wanton. I t’s not like that Dalish abhor of sex. Young people fooling around with the elves they grow up with, sharing their experiences by the bonefire, all the while Mahariel listens and observes with cold eyes.  At night he fucks himself in the tent he shares with his brethren, wet, yarning sounds barely muffled by a hand. Sometimes he bits into it, hard enough to draw blood, and discreet enough to hide under layers of armour so Tamlein doesn’t question. 

There’s this invisible line sitting the boundary, one side being ascetic, and the other dissolute. If he crosses it, he knows, that for certain, he’ll open his legs to whomever willing.

As said, the line was crossed the day he was resurrected from his near death. Behind the shattering glass he once only pressed his palm on, gazing at the pretty sultry pictures beyond, he now steps over bare-footed on the shards, pale streams of crimson colour wind out like spider webs. 

And he wondered what held him back.

It wasn't long before he could take two cocks at a time, and three in dire situations. He became quite skilled with his tongue, as he did practice when patrolled in the woods with whatever objects fitting, sometimes fruits, soft or hard, and sometimes his fingers. He learns to twirl his tougue, and how to present himself the most licentious way, even the whores from the Pearl are put to shame. 

Between being an elven Warden and saving the world, he throws himself onto a lot of beds, well, and floors, walls, dark allies behind chantries and some wives' and husbands' chambers.

All that time, he never tastes a Qunari on his tongue. 

They are rare to come by, but it's not so much of a problem when he has Sten. The first time he laid his eyes on him, on that soft-yet-heavy bulge of that ragged clothes barely covered his thick, powerful thighs, he was having images of getting fucked into the Beyond by this bumptious Qunari, pinning to some solid surface while get destroyed from behind, bruising patches of skin that would take days to heal. 

The fantasy remains a fantasy. Sten has this stoic nature that lets him seemingly resist the most tempting offer he puts up to. None other of his companions had been this stubborn. Zevran was easy with one invite, and his fingers were true to his words.

Morrigan is spiteful of him, in a way. He can’t blame her, as it’s her natural way of being, even in her most friendly state, which happens to be permanent after slaughtering her mother. Certainly, he does not complain about the attitude she holds, since it's proven to be useful on beds (or tents) that she’s a rough one. The first time she shoved him to a tree and finger-fucks his hole he came twice, all the while her eyes showed indifference, if not somewhat intrigued. From time to time, she sits on his shaft as if on a throne, rides him and breaks the skin on his shoulders and chest with nails and teeth.

Leliana is a gentler kind. There is a reason he loves her sweetness. The whispers in his ears, the soft tracing on his back, the unbearably long strokes of his inside. It goes on and on, slowly he’s pushed past the extreme and she won't stop.

Oghern, as Mahariel never met his sober self, with all the alcohol flowing through his veins, is but brutal. Thank Creators, if he is not an elf (bendy), surely he would have his ridge broken the first night the dwarf pulling his hair and forcing his back to fold into an impossible curve. 

Alistair takes a bit more time. This man practically runs away the moment he understands the implication and into the woods (he and Mahariel share a tent at the time, as Morrigan occupies another in the Korcari Wilds), comes back only the next morning, dripping foul blood and substances. For almost a week, Alistair fidgets and startles like a bunny in the sight of Mahariel, til one evening the elf backs him up against a rock by a pond and gives him a nice, endearing blowjob. He does not push him away from his cock.

Wynne is the exception. It’s not that he finds her unattractive(sexually), but her disapproval when he, at least tried to, first stepped over the intimacy between friends to get to her bosom, which is very impressive despite her age - mages may have a trick or two - makes him feel, well, disapproved. This disapproval coming from people is not new to him, but his life is too short to care about that. Perhaps her maternal maneuver triggers something deep within, or not, he lets it drop. 

But it’s not like he’s going to make another exception. 

In Arl Eamon's estate, just days before the Landsmeet, after sharing a pleasant bath with Zevran, Mahariel has himself spread on the silky duvet, his body sinks into the soft mattress while he enjoys Zevran's nimble fingers, suitable for multiple occasions, massaging into his back. The scent of warmed exotic oil almost puts him to sleep.

"Dear Warden?"

Mahariel is too cozy but to hum. He relaxes under those lethal fingertips, callused by cold metals and unknown lives.

"About our Qunari friend, calls you Kadan, yes?" he presses onto a particularly sore spot, Mahariel lets out a long groan.

”I’m surprised you just noticed,” this dear Warden speaks in a haze, he can fall asleep right this moment.

“What can I say? I was having my attention elsewhere, distracted, by things such as a handsome red-haired elf.”

In respond, Mahariel slightly opens his eyes, looks into Zevran’s, and the tip of his tongue darts out his parted lips in an absolutely filthy motion. 

“And that, too,” Zevran comments, moves his hands to the small of Mahariel’s back not so massagingly. “In any case, it occurs to me that, I had heard the word back in Antiva, and maybe know of its meaning.”

“Judging by the tone he says it and the shite I’ve done for him, don’t you think it is quite clear? Well, that is if he has any tones, and he does, if you listen very closely,” quiet ly he groans as those hands spread his ass cheeks, his hole still swollen and wet from their previous activities.

“Ah, I love your obsession. But consider that you get into people’s pants fairly quick, how long is it? Almost a whole year!” Zevran presses his thumb to the entrance, carefully not to sink in and circling it. 

”Don’t act like you are not interested too,” h e lets out a long, sweet moan, wiggles his hip a bit as best as the position allows.

“Who wouldn’t be a little curious, yes? And I heard things about Qunari, they like it rough.” 

“And that stops you. I never know. All that time you plead nicely for me to be harder.” 

”Trust me Caro Mio, your begging is the most sacred thing I’ve heard. But mind you, they are rough even by my standards.”

”You are setting the expectations high...ah, like that. Didn’t Morrigan had a lovely chat with Sten? So that’s true then?” 

Zevran pinches Mahariel’s cheek, hard enough to leave a mark. It earns him a gasp, but then he stops right there, picking up the massage.

“Not entirely. They would certainly not fuck people to their death of course, but other than that, pretty accurate. They bite hard,” maybe he should not, but he imagines things. The raw imprints of Sten’s teeth on his skin, the blood drips from the corner of his mouth (and maybe some other things), and Zevran teases him too much. He bites his tongue.

”Kadan, you said, what does it mean?”

”I had a colleague who fell for a qunari. They ran away to a place no Crow or Qun exists and that’s another story. Well, it means where one’s heart lays, I think you have a chance.”

Like hell he doesn’t have a chance. He props himself up, laughing and dragging Zevran into a feverish kiss. When they parts, he nudges his forehead with the other elf, “What do I do without you?”

”No, you don't,” Zevran smirks and pushes him onto the floor. “Go have him bed you.”

He scrambles something on, at least he doesn't actually walk out there naked and scare the already scared elf girls, or runs into the queen. That can be awkward. He successfully makes it to Sten’s quarter and finds (not yet) his Qunari inspecting a decorative armour set. 

’It’s much too restrictive,’ Sten says. ‘The extra weight wears out soldiers efficiently, by then they have no more use.’

’Aren't you quite full for a man who bares his chest into battlefields?' Mahariel amuses.

'We drench our body in Vitaar, the skin becomes hardened when needed. It's a waste of time to put on armour.'

'Human are fragile on their own,' as he approaches, Sten turns around and puts his gazing on the elf. 

'So does an elf,' Sten says matter-of-factly. His eyes neutral, yet piercing, like he knows what Mahariel is up to. Fragile it is, while the elf comes closer, the differences in height and build grow more significant. He is naturally more lithe and delicate, despite all the enemies butchered and arrows that can shot down the stars. When compares to a human, in this case a human-sized armour, he already is petite, and in the face of a qunari, he seems unriped. 

'I have to disagree,' he stops half an arm-length in front of Sten, and head raises, eyes glitering. 'I'd very much like to prove you wrong, myself.'

Sten stares. His composure perfectly impassive, and he is well aware of the power he holds at the moment. His gaze lands on his exposed neck, elongated by an upward bent, too easy to snap into two. His trimmed waist, even more slim when observes from above, may fit into an open palm of his. 

Sensing where his eyes wander to, Mahariel invades into his space further. He reaches up a hand, halt in mid-air, with Sten showing no signs of pulling away, he touches his chest. His wrist is seized. Sten grabs his waist, drags him closer, too close Mahariel’s chest presses into his stomach. 

He cannot help but smirk, and Sten remains expressionless. 

‘Prove yourself.’


End file.
